


Safe Haven

by teaandcharcoal



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Established Relationship, Impregnation, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Porn With Plot, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandcharcoal/pseuds/teaandcharcoal
Summary: Dave and Karkat should be in "happily ever after" mode. They're happily married and making successful movies. There's just one piece missing: they want a family. And trying to get that last piece is a lot more complicated than it always seems in fiction, because just as you reach for it you start to see all of the other bits you've dropped.Additional Johnrezi and background/implied DirkJake, listed here so as not to clutter the tags.





	Safe Haven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carnivorousBelvedere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnivorousBelvedere/gifts).



> The original prompt was literally "ABO universe fic, alpha dave/omega karkat" and then I don't know what happened. 
> 
> Actually, that's a lie. I totally do: plotbunnies happened. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Since it was so open and I wasn't sure all of what the requester wanted for porn, I just wrote three porns. I'd suggest just control+f "dick" if you wanna skip to those parts. I also pulled background pairings from the other prompts when I decided I wanted a whole world.

* * *

Dave Strider might be the most secretive man in Hollywood. His Wikipedia doesn’t have a birth date, birth place, or even his presentation. The only actual “facts” are a list of the films he’s made, and that the two of you are married. Two thirds of it is speculation based on contradictory “insider sources,” a good chunk of them secretly you lying your ass off. You’ve ghostwritten for half the hacks in this town, so it’s easy enough to get TMZ to say that an unnamed source swears he’s actually the son of a Canadian businessman or whatever. Your family has asked why you do it a few times. You respond that you both kind of prefer it that way, and it’s fun to make shit up about your mate. And that’s true, but it also helps you keep your mind off of the actual crap that’s happening. Because if people actually knew you’d be on the cover of _People_ a minute later. You can see the headline now: “We Just Can’t Do It - Dave Strider and Mate Open up about Fertility Issues.” Thank God all your doctors are discreet.

The office does its best to be comfortable. There’s a little loveseat, a ficus in the corner, a few classy pictures on the wall. But it still smells, for lack of a better word, sterile. Like it’s rubbing it in. Dave sits next to you, holding your hand tightly as you wait for your doctor to finally grace you with her fucking presence.

“Hey Karkat?” He says.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever happens, I love you.”

You smile softly and put your head on his shoulder. He’s grown a lot since you started dating in college, when he could barely admit he had feelings. “Love you too. And I know, I _know_ how badly we wanted one of our own, but we’ll have to see what she says. We’ll find a donor or a surrogate or fuck, maybe we could even adopt.”

“We’ll see what she says,” Dave agrees. “One way or another, the season after this one, we’ll have our kid.”

“Yeah.”

If this was a movie, that would be the moment that the doctor would come in, would tell you how to magically fix your problem. Instead there’s another fifteen minutes where you sit there waiting. By the time she shows up you’re googling sperm banks and egg banks and adoption agencies because you’ve convinced yourself that whatever the news is going to be it’ll be bad.

Doctor Crocker comes in, a sweet smile on her soft round face. “Hello, you two, we-”

“Alright, doc,” Dave says. “Just rip that band-aid off. What’s going on?”

“Well, both your sperm and eggs should be viable.”

“So does that mean we should be trying some in vitro?” You ask.

“Not necessarily,” she says, taking a seat in the desk chair across from you two. “Actually, we see this fairly often in alpha-omega couples in high-stress professions. Both heats and ruts take a lot of time and energy and they make you really vulnerable.”

You scowl. “Well, yeah. No offense, Doctor Crocker, but we both took health class!”

A frown flickers across her face for a moment. “In which case you probably know that in times of severe stress - usually when you’re dealing with things like starvation, certain mental or physical illnesses, or the sense that you’re in constant danger -  heats and ruts simply fail to happen. What you might not know, because the studies on this only came out about six or seven years ago, is that even if you’re not in quite such dire straits, more mild versions of any of those issues can be enough to disturb the cycle.”

“So, what, do you want us to try yoga or something?” You snap, “Because we tried that already and it didn’t do shit!”

“Actually, we’ve found that the best way to do it is to take some time off. Maybe even get away from the city. But the important thing is that during the pre-heat you get to relax and do what comes naturally in a place where Karkat feels comfortable enough to focus on nesting and Dave doesn’t feel like he has to always be looking out for intruders.”

You both wince. Because, yeah, you remember spending your last two preheats trying to get out as many scripts, film reviews, and op-eds as possible and then assembling a nest at the last minute. And even when you were still keening for him, Dave would get up every few hours to check your security system and his phone to see if anyone had caught you, if some candid through the window was gonna be in the tabloids the next day.

“Do you feel like that’ll make a difference?” she asks, smiling.

You and Dave exchange looks.

“It’s worth a shot.” He says.

“Good. So I would just try that this year. If you’d like I can prescribe you some fertility drugs, but I generally don’t like to give those out to people your age unless there’s an underlying issue.”

“Why not?” you ask. “Shouldn’t we do everything we can?”

“Well,” she says, “For omegas if the actual problem is stress and not failure to ovulate, it dramatically increases the odds of multiples - triplets are fairly common, with all the complications that brings. And the alpha drugs generally have really nasty side effects. It basically increases semen production, so that makes getting low blood sugar or becoming severely dehydrated during the rut much easier, and worst case scenario you can get painful scar tissue in your testes that can, ironically, make knotting very difficult in future ruts.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s not do that,” Dave says.

“Agreed,” you say.

“So, do you two have any other questions?”

“Do you really think our best bet is to just keep trying?” you ask. “This’ll be the fifth time.”

She gives you an understanding smile. “I know this can be hard. My wife is a beta and the two of us struggled for a long time too. But give yourselves some time, try to relax. If it makes you feel better, it won’t be a breach of confidentiality to say that you’re not the only couple in the movie industry that this happens to. I’ve made this recommendation dozens of times, and more often than not it works, especially if it’s paired with good stress management.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Dave asks.

“Well at that point we’ll start discussing more options. That could be those medications or in vitro or even a surrogate.”

You sigh. “Okay. So I guess… we’ll call you back after the season?”

“Sounds good. Although actually I’m the least busy in late March to early April. By six months after the mating season I’ve got all of the people panicking and wondering why they’re not pregnant sorted out but even the earliest pre-season folks haven’t started booking yet.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Dave says.

“If you want you can schedule something with my assistant on your way out, or just give us a call once you get your result.”

The two of you get up and leave. You nod to the assistant because you’re not sure what to say. See you later? God you hope not.

You get into Dave’s car and drive away. There are a few paparazzi on the sidewalk, but they’re not allowed in the building and you could have been doing just about anything in there. The only thing they’d be able to get out of this is that you visited one of the dozens of doctors or lawyers or… whatever the guys on the third floor do. It’s quiet for a while other than the generic shiny pop Dave likes to listen to “ironically.”

Eventually you break the silence. “So… what exactly do you want to do?”

“Actually, I’ve got a plan,” he says. “We’re taking her advice and getting out of town.”

“To where?”

“Let’s go home.”

“Houston?”

“Well, not quite. Remember how Jake talked Dirk into getting that vacation house in the middle of fuck nowhere but Dirk never uses it because that would involve leaving his normal house?”  

You snort. “What, you want us to run off to the woods to go fuck?”

“Why not?” He glances over to you. “I mean, I know geographically we could cover more ground, but it’s metaphorically about as far from LA as we can get. Think about it - no traffic, no noise, no paparazzi, no one around for miles...”

The idea is certainly tempting. You imagine yourself and Dave sitting on one of those bigass porches all ranch-style houses seem to have. He could hold you and kiss you in a way that he normally isn’t comfortable doing anywhere outside the bedroom. You imagine his lips on your skin, hands running all up and down your body. God, how wonderful would it be to be just like one of those Omegas in a period romance piece, whisked off to the countryside and made to feel perfectly safe and loved before your heat and maybe if you’re lucky a little after too...

“That… that would be nice,” you admit. “How long do you think we’d be able to stay? I don’t know if I’d be able to give that up and rush back here after my heat.”

Dave considers it for a moment before slowly saying. “I mean... We had been talking about taking some time off to work on that script together, and my schedule’s still open all winter. We could take a full fucking year long sabbatical.”

“Shit, that sounds amazing…” you let yourself fantasize a little more about that, about finally having time to get all the attention from your mate that you’re usually too busy to make time for. And then the reality of the situation kicks in, the reminder to yourself that you could barely manage three months of summer vacation without clawing your eyes out from boredom. “There _is_ internet out there, right?”

“It’s Dirk. Of course there’s internet. And I’m sure if anything else is missing we can just throw money at the problem. Ain’t like that’s an issue for us these days.”

 “True,” you say.

By the time you get back home, you’re feeling much more optimistic than you have in a long, long time.

* * *

LAX is even busier than usual. With the mating season starting soon, every alpha and omega and everybody dating one are ending their vacations and headed home. You wonder how many people are heading off to their own little lovenests like the two of you are.

The two of you blend right in with crowd. Karkat only ever makes public appearances in suits with his hair carefully managed, so in cargo pants and his favorite oversized sweatshirts he’s no one. You’ve taken off your aviators and put on some casual clothes. Armed with a “yeah, I get that a lot,” you can usually wander around without trouble. But this time you’ve gone the extra mile and chopped off the bleached part of your hair. No one’s going to be messing with you or your mate here or in Texas.

And no one does. Maybe you’re already starting to be affected by your own pre-rut hormones, making you overprotective and a little bit paranoid for your mate’s safety. Ugh, you probably could have gotten away with booking a private flight instead of getting on a normal passenger one. At least you aren’t so far gone that you went for economy seating to be even further undercover.

Karkat has his laptop out the whole flight. You try not to read over his shoulder, but it looks like he’s working on some fiction piece. You kind of hope that he notices that you’re watching one of his movies, a romcom with his lovely, dry sense of humor. But even if he doesn’t, you love watching his work. You can practically smell him on it - perfect and sweet and wonderfully genuine even as he tries to distance himself from his own feelings to be more ‘realistic’. God, you can’t wait to get him somewhere you can run your hands and lips all over him and-

No, down boy. Don’t wanna be getting a stiffie in the middle of the flight. Better save that for when you can do something about it. And soon enough you’ll have nothing but opportunities to make him squirm. So dammit, Dave, don’t keep squirming yourself. Karkat reaches out and gives your hand a little squeeze. He leans over and puts his lips close to your ear. Fuck, fuck, fuck…

“You know, I’m excited too,” he whispers.

You have to take a deep breath to steady yourself and he smiles at you, eyes shining. Normally you hate public displays of affection, but this time you put your hand on his thigh and lean over to kiss him. He laughs, closes his laptop, and puts his head on your shoulder. You let it stay there the rest of the flight.

It feels like it takes even longer than usual for the plane to land and to get your luggage from the carousel. Maybe it just _has_ gotten longer since the last time you were on a commercial flight. Hard to say. But the leased car is waiting for you - a nice black SUV. You’d originally thought about going real stereotypically country and getting a pickup, but if this works you’re gonna need space for a carseat soon. It makes you almost giddy to think about. Karkat’s mood, on the other hand, goes downhill fast as soon as you get out into the parking lot.

“Fuck,” He says as he slides into the passenger seat, “I keep forgetting September is still summer. Why did I wear so many layers?” He begins tugging at the neck of his sweatshirt.

“Heh, you forget how hot Texas is, babe?”

He just grunts and reaches down.

“Hang on, are those fucking zip off shorts?”

“Yeah?”

“What year is it and how old are you?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You snort. “Okay, fine. Let’s get going and then you can turn the AC on.”

You turn the car on, but your mate keeps wiggling.

“Karkat.”

He stills. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“Sorry, my stomach just started hurting and I suddenly feel uncomfortable all over.”

“Come on, it’s not _that_ hot out.” Still, the engine’s been running long enough that you can turn the AC on without burning your face. Hopefully that’ll make him more comfortable.

“No, dumbass!” He growls.

“What then?” you ask.

“You know how I’ve got a uterus that spends eleven months out of the year doing nothing?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re hitting the part where it goes ‘oh shit, we actually need to get ready just in case you and your useless fucking husband manage to make a baby for once!’”

“Oh shit,” you say.

“That’s what I fucking said!”

You punch the address into your phone as quickly as you can and then gently reach over to stroke his hair. “Well, don’t worry. We’ll get you home soon so you can start nesting. I’ll drop you off and then go back out to get groceries and stuff, okay?”

“Okay,” he grumbles.

You might speed a little more than normal the rest of the way. Your phone can’t actually keep up, and between that and the thick foliage you miss the drive and have to turn around. But you get there eventually. It’s wonderfully unassuming, a little white ranch-style house nestled in the middle of thick pine forest. All the curtains are closed, and probably have been for months at the least. You park right in front of the porch and fish the keys your brother sent you out of your carry on. Karkat immediately hops outside and takes a look around.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “it’s perfect.”

You might not describe it that way. The house isn’t huge, and there’s a few massive cobwebs in the eves. Discarded leaves litter the porch. But if he’s not seeing them you won’t ruin it for him. You’ll just sweep them down later when he’s not looking. Note to self: before you track down the nearest Walmart, check the cleaning supply situation.

You get the door open and your mate rushes in, inspecting thoroughly. If you didn’t know for a fact this house was only five years old you’d swear it was haunted. Most of the furniture is covered in white sheets and those pieces that aren’t have a thick layer of dust over them.

“Still perfect?” You ask Karkat, smirking slightly.

He scowls at you, cracks his knuckles, and says, “It will be.” He heads towards the windows and throws it open. “Just do me a favor and get some swiffer dusters or something while you’re out.”

“Will do. Just gonna check  and see if we’ve got mop and broom first.”

Karkat looks down and notices the tracks he’s left in the dust. “Yeah, good call.”

You wind up doing a slightly more thorough investigation than that. Turns out that there’s a few canned goods in the kitchen that hadn’t _quite_ expired yet. And even though you know that omegas usually like to do a lot of den preparation themselves, you do go around and gather up the dust covers. You also find some laundry detergent in the utility room so you start a load of the cloths, just in case Karkat wants it for nesting material. You’re out far enough that the Walmart actually closes, but it shouldn’t do so for a while.

Eventually you head to the store. Your cart’s overflowing by the time you check out, and you’re not entirely sure how that happened. You blame Karkat - nothing like having your omega in preheat to activate your own nesting instincts. Gotta get all the provisions for the mate and pups and all that shit. Like you couldn’t order pizza these days and get a beta to bring all the food you could ever want right to your door.

...But then again if you do actually get a kid out of the deal, you probably shouldn’t have its mom live on pizza. So maybe the several hundred dollar grocery total is worth it. Even if you’re absolutely gonna have to break the one-trip rule to get all this shit inside.

It’s dark by the time you get back, but the lights are all on inside. When you open the door you’re hit with a wave of lemon scent. Karkat’s carefully wiping down the entertainment center with some wood cleaner and a paper towel. He says “hey,” and waves without looking up.

“Hey yourself. How’s it going?”

“Got all the main rooms clean.”

“Seriously?”

“This place isn’t that big,” he says.

“Shit, man, good job!”

“Don’t patronize me, Strider.” He tosses the paper towel into a large black garbage bag. It already looks pretty full.

“I’m not. That’s seriously a lot to get done.” He beams in pride. You know some omegas that like having their heads petted and being called a good boy, and you know if you tried that with Karkat he’d eviscerate you, but he does seem to really like the praise. “Anyway, you hungry? I got a rotisserie chicken and some mashed potatoes for us.”

“Oh, Mister Strider, such a wonderful, caring Alpha.”

You snort.

“Seriously, though, let’s eat. The last thing I had was that shitty burger in the airport. I’m fucking starving.”

The two of you head into the kitchen. You set the bag with the chicken and potatoes down on the table and head for the fridge. You barely have time to shove the two bags of cold stuff in there before you hear the telltale sound of the plastic container opening.

“Oh my fucking God that smells so good!” Karkat says.

“You’re welcome,” you reply. “You get around to washing the dishes?”

“No? Why would I? They’ve been in a cabinet.”

“Yeah and who knows what’s been climbing around or settled on them. At least there’s a wrapped thing of paper plates in here.” You pull it out and open it.

“Ugh, fine _mom.”_ Karkat grumbles.

“Now where was the silverware again…?”

As you go through the drawers you hear a tearing sound. You look over your shoulder to see Karkat’s ripped one of the legs right off and started going to town on it. It’s absolutely vicious, his teeth sinking into the crispy skin, the juices dripping from both the chicken and his face. He stops and looks at you.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “Should I be waiting?”

Are you staring, oh God you’re staring. You feel your face start to heat up. “No, uh, that’s fine.”

He grins. “Oh, I get it…” and then he licks the skin, taking up the drops of the juice.

You force yourself to go back to finding yourself some forks and knives. You rinse them off quickly in the sink and then go back to your mate. By the time you’re there he’s already nibbling the last of the meat off the bone. You go for the other leg and Karkat slices off a huge piece of the breast. The two of you basically skeletonize the bird and then go on to mix the potatoes with the drippings. You’re always surprised how much you can pack away when you’re getting ready for the mating season.

Karkat leans back in his chair and rests his hands on his belly contentedly. “Thanks, honey, I needed that.”

You smirk. “I could tell.”

He closes his eyes for a moment and you hop to your feet to take care of the garbage. The main point of this was to let Karkat relax a little, so you’re gonna give him that chance. He’ll be busy enough perfecting your nest the next few days as it is. Honestly, you should probably pull out the rest of the dishes and at least rinse them off, but with Karkat looking so sweet and soft you have other plans.

“So uh,” you say, trying to be as casual and noncommital as you were the afternoon after film club you first asked him for coffee, “did you check out the bedroom yet?”

And just like he did that first day, he sees through you completely. But it’s not the worst thing. He turns the bedroom eyes up to eleven. “I did. But I wouldn’t mind hearing your opinion on the mattress.”

You smile back. “I’d be happy to give it to you.”

“Holy shit. It’s taken nearly a decade, but Dave Strider finally learned the double entendre.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You tap him lightly on the shoulder. “You wanna have sex or just exchange witty rapport?”

He pushes his chair back. “Well, since it’s you, I don’t think we could keep the latter up for long, so might as well get laid.”

“Sweet, that’s what I wanted anyway.” You bounce off towards the bedroom and he follows you.

You get there, turn the lights on, and pause. You look at the bed and then can’t help but laugh. The quilt is made of stereotypically grandmotherly florals that manage to clash hideously in spite of their pale, washed-out colors. The sheets themselves are made of a fabric covered in a pattern of muscular cowboys in various states of undress.

“Oh my fucking god, Dirk, this is amazing,” you say to yourself.

“Are you serious?” Karkat demands.

“Come on, are you tryin’ to tell me this ain’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

He rolls his eyes. “Your southern is showing. And get a good look while it lasts. I ordered new sheets already. We’re getting rush delivery.”

“Aw.... Well, better make this last then.” You spin on your heel and kiss him hard.

Karkat startles a bit in surprise, but then sinks into the kiss. He slides his hands around your back until they find their way under your shirt. He pets your spine as you slide one hand into his back pocket and fist his hair with the other. Then you pull his head back.

“Bed,” you command, dipping into your commanding alpha voice.

He scrambles out of your grasp and throws himself on the quilt, spreading his legs and reaching out to you. His eyes are beautifully soft, a welcoming smile on his lips. And, fuck, what kind of red-blooded alpha could turn that down? You hum to him softly, an instinctual message to your mate that he is loved and protected.

“Is this how you want it?” You murmur in his ear.

“Anything to not look at those fucking sheets.”

You chuckle softly and run your hand along his thigh. “I can do that for you.” Besides, even if he can't appreciate the beauty of your brother’s interior design, you sure as fuck can. Plus, the cartoonish half-naked cowboys make your husband look even prettier in comparison.

Karkat whines and slides his hand under your shirt and over your chest. His hands are warm, soft, the result of more care than he'd like to admit. He yanks your shirt up over your head. The chain around your neck, the one that holds your wedding ring, clinks softly. The air conditioning is cold on your skin, but, fuck, you want more.

Reading your mind, he goes right for your belt. When he's got your boxers half way down your ass you realize you're the only one getting naked.

You place a hand on your chin and let out a comical “Hmm…”

“What?” Karkat asks, an amused tone to his voice.

“Well, Mister Vantas, I believe you are criminally overdressed.”

“Oh? I didn't realize you were moonlighting as the fucking fashion police.”

“Nah, regular cops handle indecent underexposure. Fashion police would have said something about the zip off cargo shorts ages ago.”

"You did."

"When?"

"When we got in the car!"

"Well they would have _done_ something."

“Ha! You're just jealous because they're more practical than anything you own.”

“Yeah, yeah, save it for the judge.” you undo his fly. “I'll be taking these for evidence.”

“No. Stop.” He says, grinning and lifting his hips. Fuck he's cute like this.

You slide down his body and kiss along his thigh as every new inch is exposed. He sighs and strokes your hair. Once his shorts are on the ground you start coming back up and oooh hey there… his dick is straining against his briefs. You give it a little kiss and Karkat throws back his head and keens. You tuck your nose into the crook of his thigh and oh, he smells so good. Aroused omega is one of your favorite scents in the world, even if it can't hold a candle to how he’ll smell once his heat starts. Oh, he's starting to produce a little bit of slick. It’s not enough to actually fuck him without lube, but you can just smell the hint of it, sweet and inviting. Your own cock is twitching. You need to prep him and get buried to the hilt.

“Ugh, stop panty sniffing for a second and fuck me!” Your mate demands.

And, well, it's an alpha’s job to fulfill their mate’s desires, isn't it? You back off for a moment so you can free him of said panties, and he takes the opportunity to take his shirt off. Ah, sweet, sweet nudity. Still, you take a moment to nuzzle his neck as he reaches over to try to get the lube out of wherever he put it when he unpacked.

“You glad I brought lube now?” He teases as he pops the cap.

“Yes, I was fucking fool to think we'd have the self control to wait until you were actually in heat. I'm Boo-boo the fool, it is me. Now please, Karkat, please.”

“Hmm… okay.”

But instead of handing you the bottle like he usually does, he puts a hand on your chest, gently pushing you back. And then the beautiful, beautiful man gives you a proper show. He bats his eyelids at you slowly and sensually strokes his chest as he spreads his legs. A finger traces his opening. Outside of heat he takes as much preparation as any other man, but he's milking it, going slower as though he could somehow arouse you even further.  But you don't mind. This might be your last chances to truly appreciate the sight in front of you. If this works, his body will be changed forever. In spite of what all the little starlets claim, you can never truly go back to how you look before you have a baby. The tiny seed you plant in him next week is going to change the landscape of his body permanently, bringing stretch marks and looser skin, probably a c-section scar by the time it’s all over. Rings can be removed. Bite marks heal. Even the scent mingling of a mating claim needs to be refreshed fairly regularly. But this, the child you're planning to make together… that's truly permanent.

Of course, both of you have your limits. And yours comes when he stops just teasing and preparing and starts stroking his cock to the motion of the fingers inside of him.

“Enough,” you growl, grabbing his wrist.

“You're right,” he replies. He pulls his other hand free and wraps it around your dick. “There we go,” he whispers as you inhale a shuddering breath.

“Yeah,” you breathe back. “Okay, let's do this.”

He lies back down and spreads his legs nice and wide for you. “Let’s.”

You kneel between his thighs, kiss at his neck… keep it sweet for now, Strider. Soon enough he’ll be _begging_ for you to mark him. You lift his thighs, guide them around your waist.

“There you go baby,” you whisper. “Just like that.”

He hums to you and tips his head back, both relaxing and baring his neck to you. You need to be inside him _yesterday._ You line up your cock and roll your hips forward. For the moment you close your eyes and just enjoy the feeling. He's perfect: hot and wet and just tight enough.

 “Oh fuck,” he breathes. “I love the feel of your cock!”

“Love being inside of you,” you reply.

You get your arms in the right position so you can get nice and close to your mate, bury your face in the crook of his neck, and start fucking him. Fuck, he smells so good, the tempting ghost of his coming heat dancing from his skin.

“Yes…” he groans, tangling his fingers in your hair.

“Like that?”

“Hmm… it's okay.”

You snort. “What do you want then?”

He leans up and whispers in your ear, “More.”

The single word curls into a gorgeous moan at the end. You shudder and speed up without even thinking about it. The pressure on your cock is good, but it's not enough. Karkat squeezes you more tightly with his thighs and arches up into your chest. He's so warm and is just starting to sweat - as though he's doing the work here. It's not like you mind, though.

He takes his lower lip between his teeth as whines begin to escape. You kiss at his jaw, the side of his neck. Fuck, he smells so good. You want to bite, want to refresh your hormonal claim on him, but no, not yet.

“Touch me,” you order.

And he does, the beautiful sweet thing, he does. His fingers trace your chest, your spine, your belly, your nipples. Every touch leaves a trail of heat. You kiss him passionately, trying to please him from top to bottom.

Then instead of two hands teasing you it's one. You push yourself up to see what's going on. His right hand is wrapped tight around his own cock. You click your tongue at him.

“Come on, baby,” you say. “You know I would have taken care of you.”

He lets out a little growl. “Sure. After you’d finished.”

“So maybe I was a little distracted. But I can still get you off first. Is that what you want? You want to come first and then have me fuck you while you're already overstimulated? Have you moaning and desperate and begging for my knot? Shit, I think I want that.”

“Do it! Please, Dave!”

And you do. You don't bother teasing or playing. You just get to jerking him off fast and hard, try to time it with your thrusts and aim just at the spot he likes best. It's not easy, but it's so, so worth it as he comes apart under you. He arches and moans and cries a delicious mixture of “yes,” “please,” your name, and unintelligible pleased noises.

He comes so hard it nearly reaches his chin. It's still normal cum, nothing like the thin clear material that'll be shooting out in a week’s time. You pause for a moment to let him catch his breath.

He closes his eyes for a moment and then rolls his shoulders. “Thank you,” he breathes, “So much.”

“My pleasure.”

“Yeah… yeah, I'm ready for that part now. Knot me.”

You don't know if most alphas kind of like being bossed around by your omegas. They sure don't in porn or movies. But you relish how badly he wants it, how much he wants you. And it’s so Karkat to make demands while he’s pinned to the bed and being fucked senseless. There's something beautiful about your mate's personality shining, even when everything you've ever seen shows omegas becoming nothing more than a needy, wet hole to fuck. And it also means that on the rare occasions he really does lose himself… Holy shit. So when he asks, you deliver. You were so focused on him that it takes a few moments to work yourself up to the point where your knot, diminished as it is outside of the rut, begins to form.

“There we go…” You breathe. “Fuck, I'm so close…”

Instead of any sort of vocal encouragement, he strikes like a snake and latches on to one of the scent glands on the side of your neck. His teeth sting as he bites down hard, marking you as his alpha, and that does it for you. Your knot expands and pops inside of him. You've got a few more little rolls of your hips, a little more pressure around the base of your cock, and then it's your turn. You refresh your mark on him inside and out.

You let go of his neck first and kiss and lick the reddening skin. He hums happily and runs his fingers lazily through your hair. Outside of the rut, you've barely got any more cum than he does, and your knot is small enough that you could pull out with only the slightest discomfort to you both. But you don't want to leave. It feels nice to have your cock cradled in his body with the rest of you cradled in his arms. The scent coming off of him is less arousing now, but it's more pleasant. It says “I am an omega who has been very well fucked by Dave Strider and I don't want anyone else.” It makes you feel proud, satisfied beyond what plain sex can do.

“I love you,” you murmur.

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing the spot where he bit you. “But I feel like we should stop doing this for now. Save up your sperm for when they've got an egg to fertilize.”

“I’ll make more,” you point out.

“Dave…” he says, voice starting to get testy.

You sigh. “Okay, guess you're right. So I'll blueball myself. Can I at least suck you off, though? I love how your skin tastes this time of year.”

“...I'll think about it.”

He looks embarrassed, face flushed and not making eye contact. Fuck yes, he's totally gonna let you suck his cock! You'll be drinking him down in the middle of your literal lovenest while you wait for his heat to start so you can fuck him silly so you can get him good and pregnant. Your cock is spent, but you get an excited little twinge deep in your gut thinking about it. Aw yeah, this is gonna be fun!

* * *

 

You weren't entirely sure it would actually help go to a strange home in the middle of nowhere, especially when it technically belongs to another omega. But what little bit of Dirk's scent that you found was stale, and you and Dave easily cover it up. It helps that you bring in new linens, wash them with your detergent, and then lie on them or sit on them or wrap yourselves in them until they smell like home. You decide to take Dave up on his offer and let him suck your dick, which soaks any surface in the scent of sex and safety.

Of course, even if that wasn’t the case you’d probably let him anyway. Blowjobs are always great, and to be honest you kind of feel bad for him. During the prerut his instincts are telling him to be active and to fight off other alphas or predators, to secure your territory’s borders and the resources for the mating season. But none of that matters in the twenty-first century. Back in Hollywood he would go nuts, trying to turn your house into fort Knox and snapping at photographers. Here he's got nothing to do but sit on his hands and go to the store more often than strictly necessary. And you can tell its driving him nuts.

Then the new mattress arrives.

A large truck pulls up and your mate's guard-dog instinct immediately goes off. He gets to the door before you can, since he was already on edge and you're buried under a couple of new quilts. But you get up and follow. If you can you'll get them to take the old mattress away too so you don’t have to drag it out yourself.

Dave stands fully upright, spine ramrod straight as he stares down the two men getting out of the truck. The wind shifts and you catch their scent. Alphas. Fuck, why would you send alphas on delivery during the prerut?! There's a horrible, traitorous, primal part of your brain that's interested too. Normally that would be the worst part, just for the guilt of it even though it's just an instinctual blip you'd never act on, but Dave's getting stressed and you’re the one that brought them here.

The younger delivery man locks his eyes on you. He's barely more than a child, absolutely too young to drink. Which means he's stupid and full of hormones. A low growl starts in Dave's chest, but you reach over and take his hand. You're not gonna let his anxiety get the better of him and make him lash out and start a fight. ...you hope.

Thankfully, the other guy is in at least his late 30s, and he claps a hand on his companion’s shoulder.

“Sorry, man,” he says. “Don't mean no harm to the two of ya. Just here to deliver a mattress.”

Dave stays silent so you reply, “Right, uh, can you just leave it on the porch? I think the two of us can manage.”

The older man looks sympathetic. “Sure, but we still need a signature. Technically it's supposed to be a... Dave Strider’s, but- wait, hang on, are you _the-”_

That seems to snap your mate out of it. He marches forward. “I will give you fifty dollars in cash not to answer that question.” He takes the clipboard from the younger alpha.

“Fine by me,” says the older one. “Come on, Rick. Let's go get this guy's mattress.”

“Go get my wallet.” Dave orders.

You scramble back inside and find it in the pants he had on yesterday. And he seriously just has a hundred dollars. You're going to hope he just stopped at the ATM and doesn't make a habit of that. But now isn't the time to worry about that. You hustle back outside.

The two delivery men are carrying the mattress forward, but Dave stands in the doorway, blocking their entrance to the house. You tap him on the shoulder and hand him the money.

God, the younger alpha is staring at you again. Ugh, you know it's hard this time of year but self control is a thing. You growl at him, which seems to startle him quite a bit.

The older man chuckles. “That's what you get, kid. Back in the truck with you.”

As the boy skitters off he sighs. “Again, real sorry about him. We don't normally let our young guys work in the pre-season. Even I usually don't. There's just something real nasty going around. Are you okay?”

“We'll be fine.” Dave says, handing him the money. “Just get out of here and don't say anything about this.”

“Whatever you say, sir.” He pockets it, takes the clipboard, and walks away. “Hope y’all have a good day now.”

You pause to let Dave say “you too,” but he doesn't. So you do instead.

The older man gets back onto the truck and drives away. Once it’s half way down the drive, Dave turns to you.

“A mattress? In my name? Really?!”

“You told me to use your credit card to get what I needed!”

“We already have half a nest built!”

“No, I have organized piles on a mattress I was gonna replace because it was clearly a futon in a past life.” You say, trying to keep calm.

“So?”

“So my back was already killing me. Are we supposed to spend a week on that bed? I'd be paralyzed by the end!”

The two of you stare each other down. Or at least you assume he’s glaring back. You just see your own grouchy expression in his mirrored shades.

Eventually he says, “Fine,” and pushes past you. You watch him go into the kitchen, grab the car keys, and head back towards the door.

“Where the hell are you going?” you demand.

“Does it matter?” He asks. His voice is thick with tears.

No, oh no. Shit, you didn’t mean to hurt him. You take his hand. “Of course it matters!”

“Why? It’s not like I’m doing anything useful! I’m just pacing around and posturing and getting paranoid about everything, and more easily pissed off than ever because I have no goddamn outlet and my balls hurt, and between that and the mattress I can’t sleep! Fuck, this even worse than when we were in LA. I should have known this was a stupid idea.”

“Oh, Dave…” You tip his shades back. There are tears welling up in his eyes and it fucking _hurts._ “No, Dave, shh. You’re doing a great job!”

“Don’t baby me, Vantas.”

“I’m not.” You take his hands again. “Look, your job right now is to get materials and protect the nest. You brought us so much shit, and anything you couldn’t get at the store, you’re buying for me. And, let’s be real, if you weren’t around I’m not sure if that one delivery guy could’ve stopped the other one from trying to to take a bite out of me.”

He shakes his head, but when he speaks again his voice sounds a little better. “I still can’t help but think we’d be better off if we hadn’t come here. I know it was my idea in the first place, but-”

“No. This is better.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Look, I don’t know if Dr. Crocker was right about you - I know this sucks but prerut always sucks - but I can tell she was right about me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember how my preheats stopped really feeling like anything after college? And first we thought it was the birth control and then I went off of that and we thought well maybe that was just what happened when my hormones mellowed out?”

“Yeah?”

“Well it feels like something again. That same kind of weird feeling deep in my guts - probably specifically in my uterus now that I’m thinking about it. I think my body finally got the memo. I think I’m finally going to be able to have a baby.”

He just looks at you blankly, mouth slightly agape. You start to panic as he pulls his hands away. But then you feel their familiar warm weight settle on your hips. He lets his eyes slide shut and lean forward to kiss you. Fuck, he smells amazing and he feels amazing and your heart is racing and, fuck, you want him so bad. You know it’s not time yet, but your body is doing its best to slick for him. The books all say it’s best to wait through the preheat, that it increases your chances just a little bit if the inseminating partner kind of “saves up.” But if that’s really true, why do you want him so bad now, when sex is completely biologically useless? Besides, if the goal is to make him feel better, it was really brief but he did mention testicular discomfort, and letting off some pressure does help with that, so…

You give into your need, and give Dirk’s shitty mattress one last run. It’s not so bad when you’re on your hands and knees, honestly. And then you can christen the new mattress on the first day of your heat. That’ll make it more special… or something.

You don’t quite make it that far. You’re too excited when you get your nest just perfect. But you tough it out the last day and a half. Dave does whine a little. By that point his balls are so swollen he can’t even comfortably put on boxers, much less pants. You feel a little bit of pity for him, but you know that you’ll be paying for your heat later. Ruts just charge upfront. You find other ways of comforting him - distracting him with video games mostly, but it turns out that teasing him is actually fairly effective. If he’s too focused on you, he doesn’t seem to have the capacity to worry about himself.

Then one morning you wake up drenched in sweat. You feel dizzy, delirious. You're wet and uncomfortable. Did the air conditioning break last night? No, because it's not just warmth. Your dick strains against your pajamas with more urgency than morning wood. The wetness between your legs isn't right to be sweat. It's too thick, smells too sweet. You get a moment of clarity as your mind snaps on to what you need more than anything, what you _want_ more than anything. You roll over and Dave is beside you, asleep and unaware. Of course he is; it's not even dawn yet. But you can't wait. He smells so good, looks so pretty. You shake him, whining pathetically. He groans and rolls onto his back. His cock is already hard, standing up tall and proud atop his swollen balls. Good God they're bigger than you've ever seen them. He must be full to bursting with cum, cum that you need him to pour into you, to fill your womb with so you can have your beautiful pups.

Your entire body pulses with arousal, leaving behind an aching emptiness. You need him   _now_. You shove your pajama pants down and climb on top of him. You don't normally ride him and the tendons along your inner thighs protest as you hold yourself above him. But you don't care. You're _dripping._ He promised to breed you, to make you big and fat with his pup, promised you his knot and his seed and to make you feel full and complete and happy. And you need him to make good on that.

You take enough time to line up carefully, to make sure that his cock is where you need it and then you lower yourself onto him. He moans and grasps at the sheets, but doesn't open his eyes. And even then you can’t just drop down. You have to manually direct his cock to make sure he slides into the right channel inside of you, but then there you are. Your eyelids flutter. Instinct tells you to be pliable and still, to wait for your alpha to bend you into the right position to fuck you senseless. But no, you're already this far, and you need that knot. You roll your hips slightly and your mate responds, unconsciously thrusting up into you. You get a couple more rolls in, but fuck it _hurts!_ You’re forced to go slow and sloppy. Sure it's better than no dick at all, but it's not really what you need.

A feral growl from below forces your eyes back open. Your mate’s gorgeous red eyes return your stare. You're pulled in so much you barely notice the way his teeth are bared. You feel a little bit of fear at the snarl, but it's drastically overpowered by arousal. Alphas get really aggressive when someone else asserts dominance during a rut, and you practically mounted him. Before you can get too excited about how he'll retaliate, he grabs you by the scruff of your neck.

“On your knees.” He commands.

And you follow like a good little omega. You want to be a good little omega. You generally bottom, but heat forces you to submit even harder. It’s almost painful to leave, but you pull off, scramble to your knees and present your ass.

“I'm sorry,” you say. “I just wanted your knot so bad…”

“Well you're gonna get it,” he growls.

He grabs you by the hip and uses the other hand to guide himself back inside you. You sigh with relief as he slides home, back where he belongs. Then he drapes himself over you, pushing your face down into the blanket, and starts moving. _Fuck_ , you feel like you're on fire. In this position he can hit all of the spots you managed to miss while you were on top.

“Oh, fuck yes,” he breathes. “God damn, Karkat, you feel so fucking good. Shit, I can't wait to knot you.”

He bites your neck hard and wraps his hand around your cock. You cry out for him. You're close, so fucking close. Normally you'd be a little embarrassed at how quick he has you keening and begging, but during the heat all bets are off. Especially this one. You want him to plant his seed in you. You can feel how ready and fertile you are, how easy it would be to finally give you your pup. If he comes now, you just know it'll take. And he's holding out on you.

“Hurry up and fucking do it! Knot me!” You demand.

“Shhhh…” he strokes your flank gently. “You're too tight. Relax a little.”

Relax? Relax?! Maybe once you've got a knot in you you can fucking relax! You start to protest but then he starts working you over with his hands and his mouth. Your complaint turns into a long drawn-out moan as he makes you come. It's not enough, not what you need. That's why during heats you just put out a little spurt of useless clear liquid, but it still makes you shudder with pleasure.

“You like that?” Dave asks, words low and breathy and husky in your ear. “You do, don't you. Fuck, man, I'm gonna breed you so hard over, and over, and over.”

God you want that. Fuck you want it. Yoy wouldn't mind being his little breeder, really, not when it makes you feel like  this. Outside world what? You'd be too busy spreading your legs every fall so you can get big and fat with litters of pups from the best director Hollywood has ever seen. You don't wanna think, don't wanna move, just want to get fucked over and over and over again. You know what you've said in the past, but if this is what you get, if this is how you would feel, maybe you wouldn't object being a walking womb in service to a Hollywood bigshot.

You buck back and wiggle and keen, as though he needs to be told what you need. As though he doesn't know that anything with your dick just drives your arousal higher, makes you more desperate. It’s not fair! You can feel the swell of his knot against you. He knows that's what you need! You start to buck back, trying to get his knot to pop inside of you, but he just grabs the scruff of your neck making you instinctively go limp. Even in the haze of your heat, you're a little embarrassed that being scruffed like a child makes you come again. He moves his hands to hold your hips up, stopping you from collapsing fully.

“There we go,” he murmurs, as he finally, _finally_ puts his knot inside of you.

 It's a stretch, an almost painful one. Fuck, you swear Dave's knot is even bigger than usual. He rocks his hips a little and the knot expands even further. Oh yes, there's no way he could leave you now. You start pumping him on instinct. You need his seed, you need to be bred. He breathes heavily in your ear and you moan in encouragement.

“Oh fuck yes… you're being so good for me. How many pups do you want babe? A dozen? Two dozen? Fuck it, let's go back to Dr. Crocker after this. Get those fertility pills for you anyway. How many you think you could carry at a time if we give you those? She said triplets ain't uncommon on that shit. What about four? Five?”

You imagine the way that would stretch your belly, the way late term they'd wiggle up against you. Fuck, you'd be huge. Unnaturally, maybe grotesquely huge. Why does that turn you on so much now? Ooh and put that with that other fantasy. How many could you make for him in a lifetime? At least three every year for… um… fuck it, You're too wired to do math, to even articulate any of this need, how much you want that and how much it scares your last thread of rationality, even as the rest of you is consumed with the need to be bred. For now, all you can do is beg.

And so beg you do.“Please, Dave, please!” you cry. “I need your come! Breed me!”

He bites you again. Hard. You throw your head back and cry out as you finally, fucking finally feel him let go. Your whole body shakes and shudders beyond your control. Dave's cock pulses and you feel him pouring out into you. It's soothing, putting out the fire on your belly for the moment. You close your eyes and focus on the feeling, the pulsing as that sweet, beautiful seed fills you up. It feels big, important.

Dave lowers you down and rolls the two of you onto your sides. You press up against him and he spoons you gently.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

“Yeah…” he agrees.

“Happy rut, I guess.”

“Mmm…” he kisses the spot where he bit you. You wonder how you smell to him now - well fucked omega in heat with a big old “property of Dave Strider” scent marker on it. He certainly takes a big old whiff of you before he pulls back to say, “Happy heat.”

“Did this feel different to you?” You ask.

“It felt amazing is how it felt. You good?”

“Yeah. You?”

“That doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me,” you say.

He chuckles and kisses the back of your neck. You could press him further, remind him that you’re more than just your hormones, even in the deepest throws of heat. But it seems like he's drifting off back to sleep. Maybe after he's knotted you a few times you'll get to have the sweet loving conversations you usually love having when your inhibitions are lowered and you're focused entirely on each other. You can talk about how you feel like something's been triggered deep inside of you, how something’s changed. You place a hand on your stomach. Do you have your baby now? Something in the back of your brain says that's not how biology works, but it feels right. With some sense back in your head, you're embarrassed by the fantasies of more children than you can count, but one or two? That would be nice. It would be so nice. And you send off little prayer that if you're not newly pregnant, you will be soon.

 But there's not much you can do now and, momentarily sated, exhaustion washes over you. Dave breathes softly and regularly on the back of your neck. Yeah, going back to sleep does sound like a good idea for now. You close your eyes and lean back against Dave's chest and lying there, locked together in the most intimate way possible, you fall asleep.

* * *

 

Your heats never quite feel real. They come through as a blur of loving bliss and wild sex. You get a week of dreamlike intimacy, but then it catches up to you. At the end you're always sore and gross and absolutely full of cum. You'll feel bloated for days until you manage to absorb or slowly leak out the ounces of semen that got stuck in your breeding channel before it shut for the season. You almost need more care from your mate afterward when you did while you were too consumed with lust to remember to eat or drink without having him remind you.

And he obliges. He cleans you, massages your sore muscles, actually cooks for you. But then you start perking up and then there's nothing to do but wait.

You don't take the test on the first possible day. You tell Dave it's because if you take it too early it's not as accurate. And that is true, but the real reason is that you don't want to live in a reality where you've failed after all this. You'd rather take a few more days to pretend that you and Dave are gonna be parents. But eventually that excuse runs thin. You find yourself in the bathroom, staring desperately at a piss-soaked plastic stick. You watch the blue pigment start to run, and then it solidifies.

You have to check the box three times, the excitement in your chest bubbling up a little more each time. Two lines does, in fact, mean you're pregnant. Relief hits you hard. You’re suddenly so tired you almost fall over. You let yourself sink down onto the toilet and then the tears come. You did it! It still doesn't quite feel real. It seemed like a given while you were in heat, but heat brains are emotional and stupid. Yet now, returned to your senses, you sit there like an idiot, rubbing your belly on a toilet seat, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that there's a baby inside of you. Well, technically not a baby yet. Just a tiny little embryo. Maybe that's why you don't feel anything yet. Oh fuck, such a tiny little thing, barely alive, but you have it and it's yours and you're going to love it and take care of it and someday it'll be an adult with a life and maybe even a mate of its own and tears are just streaming down your face. You need to get Dave. He needs to know.

You get up and leave the bathroom, still clutching the test. Dave's face goes slack the moment he sees you.

“Oh, shit. Oh Karkat…”

You shake your head, trying to clear it enough to find the words to tell him he's going to be a dad. Actually “hey, you're going to be a dad” would work, wouldn't it? But before you can open your mouth he's scooped you into his arms and is stroking your hair.

“It’s okay, Karkat. It’s okay. We can try again next time, maybe try something different. It’s only a fifty-fifty shot in the best circumstances so-”

“No, Dave!”

“So are we going straight to adoption plan? I can make a few calls and-”

“I’m pregnant.”

He stops and pulls back to look at you. “What?” Before you can repeat yourself realization dawns in his eyes. “Oh! Really?”

You nod.

He squeezes you, “Holy shit, holy shit, I can’t believe- I mean I knew you could do it but- hang on if it’s good news why are you crying?”

“Because I’m a fucking idiot.”

He snorts. “My idiot though.”

The two of you kiss, soft and sweet, and then he pulls away to start inspecting your face and body, maybe hoping there’s some other microscopic change he’d notice if he looked close enough.

“I mean…” you say. “We shouldn’t get too attached, though. You know they say the first few months are…”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t the problem before. The problem was getting a baby in you in the first place but here we are.” He puts a hand on your belly.

“What do we do now?” You ask.

He smiles. “Whatever you want.”

“I think… I wanna stay a little longer,” you say. “We might have done too good of a job building a safe den. I don’t want to leave.”

“Dude, I told you, I cleared my calendar for a year.”

He kisses you again, runs his fingers through your hair. You feel yourself melt into his touch. Why wouldn’t you? You’re safe with your alpha, in your den, on top of the world thanks to the little thing inside of you. You did it. You’re pregnant. You’re going to start your own family right here, about two hours from where you grew up.

Wait, you’re only two hours from home.

You… You should probably tell your dad.

* * *

 

This is the longest you’ve been in the car with Karkat since your ride from the airport. He's in the passenger seat, passed out with his head lolling on his shoulder. You found your hand on his thigh about half an hour into the trip and you haven't moved it since. With the heat cycling to keep you both nice and toasty his scent is slowly filling the car. Modified by the pregnancy as it is, it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy, full of pride and love. And some slow, sweet Christmas song plays on the radio, making the whole thing seem more sentimental.

Then you hit a big old pothole and he wakes up with a jerk.

“Shit, sorry, babe.”

“No it's fine. I'd have to wake up soon anyway.” He stretches.

“You still don't think you should call ahead?”

“Nah. Dad’ll like the surprise. Worst case scenario, there's someone else in the guest room and we get a hotel room.”

 Your lips twitch up into a sarcastic smile. “Yeah, _that's_ the worst case scenario.”

“Look, I know you don't like holidays-”

“It's not that I don't like them. It just feels weird.” You shrug. “I guess that's what you get when you're raised by a guy that thinks anything that's the slightest bit earnest or has to do with believing in anything is stupid. I told you my first non-ironic holiday was that Christmas I spent at John’s house freshman year of college, right?”

He laughs. “Yeah, it only comes up every time I tell you to come home with me for Passover or the High Holidays.”

“Yeah, and you know why I’ve always said no?”

“Why?” He asks with amusement.

“Look out ahead.”

“Uh-huh.”

“See that?”

“See what?”

“I stay in my fucking lane.”

He snorts. “Yeah, sure.”

“What?”

“I've told you, it’s fine. My dad, an actual legit Rabbi, says it's fine.”

“I still think a big part of that is not to hurt your feelings, you know.”

“It's not. Believe it or not, my family does like you. You even got Kankri’s approval when you politically corrected him that one time.”

“I still don't-”

He pats his stomach. “You know our baby's gonna be Jewish right? I’m bringing it home for all the holidays. And let's be real, you're gonna be using any excuse to spoil it rotten.”

“...Maybe.”

“Ha!”

“And hey,” he squeezes the hand on his thigh. “Remember, Hanukkah is only important because capitalism decided it was Jewish Christmas because it's a midwinter festival, and we bought it like a bunch of schmucks. Probably because it’s nice to feel like you’re a big enough demographic to be marketed to.”

“Shit!”

“What?”

“I forgot that stupid sweater you got me as a gag not-gag gift six years ago!”

“Oh thank God.”

“Man, that thing lit up and played horrible tinny music.”

“I remember.”

You pull up to Mr. Vantas’ house. The driveway is full of extra cars, forcing you to park on the street. But you're not surprised. You knew you'd be late. You forgot how early the sun sets in December. Light shines out from all the windows. It's almost painfully picturesque. You distract yourself by going in the trunk to get the fruit tray out.

Karkat waits on the sidewalk for you and then together you walk up to the door. He rings the bell and together you wait. The door opens and you see Karkat’s father standing in front of you. He looks so much like his son, the same eyes and soft round face, the same compact sturdy build. You realize that you haven't seen him in years. Not since the one time he came to visit you when you were just getting your start in Hollywood. The gray hair that used to be confined to his temples has spread and you swear his laugh lines didn't used to be that well defined. He looks at you in surprise for a moment before a smile spreads across his face.

“Oh my goodness! I'm so glad to see you two!” he throws his arms around Karkat, squeezing him tightly. Then he freezes and steps back. “Oh!” He chuckles, “that explains it. Congratulations, my dear.” Then he comes to embrace you. “And I'd assume to you too.”

“As far as I know,” Karkat says, crossing his arms. “If not, there's a very stealthy Alpha somewhere in the middle of nowhere.”

“What's going on, hon?” Karkat’s stepmother peeks over her husband's shoulder.

“Look who's here!” He says.

“Oh! Well don't leave these boys out in the cold! Come in, come in. There's enough for everyone.”

The modest living room is packed. You realize you forgot just how big Karkat's family is. You don't even know half these people by name, and you haven't seen three quarters of them since the wedding. But they all know who _you_ are and greet you excitedly. Honestly you feel the most kinship with the kids under 10. They're just as confused as you are, but the difference is that they get to show it or ignore the entire situation and just play with dreidels. You stick close to your mate so you've got at least one point of contact.

One of Karkat's cousins - God what was her name? Porsha? - says “Sorry I couldn't help but overhear. What was this about congratulations?”

“Porrim-!” _That_ was it. “I… uh…” he glances over to you.

Oh he's asking you. Why is he asking you? You give him a reassuring nod.

“We're having a kid.”

There's a chorus of excited congratulations. All the eyes in the room are on you. Your heart starts beating faster. Your palms start to sweat. Instinct tells you to take your mate and draw back, but Karkat seems oddly content with the attention.

Thankfully, Mr. Vantas comes in to save your ass. “Hey, would you like to put that tray down? I think we've got some space in the kitchen. I'll show you.”

“Sounds good. Karkat, do you-?”

He waves you off. “Don't worry, Dave. I got this. I know where to find you.”

Well shit. Mr. Vantas weaves through the living room and you follow.

As he leads you down the hall you start to wonder if this is a rescue, or if he's isolating you to attack. No, he wouldn't, would he? He's always been so good to you before. But then again you didn't knock up his baby before. But he was totally onboard with you getting married and he knew you were an atheist and an alpha then. Parents are supposed to be okay with you fucking their kids after you get married, right? Then they want grandkids ...you hope.

There's a couple of relatives hanging out in the kitchen, and the only one you actually recognize is Karkat's aunt, who sits there with a cup of tea. She smiles at you as you enter. Mr. Vantas clears a little spot for your fruit tray kind of near the dessert.

“Would you like something to drink?” He asks. “We've got beer, wine, soda…”

“I'll take a Coke.”

“So,” he says casually as he pulls the can from the fridge. “do you know what you're planning to do after this?”

“Um… probably just got to bed. Karkat's been extra tired recently.”

His lip twitches. “Of course. Yes, I do remember that part. Lots of being dead on my feet with both of the boys. But I meant more generally.”

“What are you talking about?” One of the women at the table asks.

“Oh, you didn't hear from the other room? Well, Dave, it's your news. Why don't you tell them?”

“Karkat is… um… we’re having a kid.”

Again, there's a flurry of “congratulations” then most of them get up in a hurry to leave. Probably to go find Karkat and talk to him about it. You almost feel bad for your mate, but this is his family. He's better at dealing with them than you are. Only his aunt and father remain.

“Ha,” Mr. Vantas says, “I almost feel bad for him. Being swarmed isn't fun.”

“Well, it's something we all went through when we were pregnant.” Karkat's aunt says. “Where would we be without all the attention and unwanted advice?”

“Before I forget,” Mr. Vantas says to you. “If Miri tells him that garbage about knowing the presentation from cravings it's not true. She swore up and down Karkat and Kankri would  both be alphas and you know how that turned out.”

“Uh, got it.”

“So, back to what I was saying,” he sits at the table and gestures to a now open chair.

It's a trap. If you sit you're done for as long as he wants to hold on to you. But if you leave he’ll be insulted, think you either don't trust the family or want to run away from your responsibility. And, well, given his first mate you can't blame him for that. You sit.

“What are you planning to do after the baby is born?”

“I mean, were probably gonna go back to Hollywood. Honestly, we didn't really plan on coming out here for this but… Oh! Karkat will be bringing the kid over for holidays, though!” You add quickly. “He thinks it's important for it to know its heritage and stuff.”

“And you?” He asks.

Shit. You'd been dreading this. “I don't know. I don't want to be trouble and I've got plenty to keep me busy when I'm alone anyway so…”

“Forgive me for being blunt,” Karkat's aunt says, “but was this something you wanted?”

Your instinct tells you to play it off, like it's not a big deal. But you know that's wrong, both in that it's the worst possible answer and simply being untrue. So even though it feels like you're fishing eels out of your esophagus, you tell them the truth. The entire thing. About how you'd always longed for a normal family, instead of an abusive older brother in an overcrowded apartment. How Karkat made you feel like that wasn't stupid and weak. How after you got married you'd tried and tried to have a kid and every time you failed you felt like the universe was slapping you in the face for daring to ask for more when you knew that you didn't deserve an ounce of what you already had. And then how you came here. How excited you were to know you did it. How you're so fucking afraid of fucking it up. And they listen. They listen completely expressionless the whole time. But you don't stop. It's like they made a little crack in your emotional dam and the flood waters raced right in. No kid in wooden clogs to stop it or any shit. Hey, at least you don't cry.

Eventually you stop. You hear general commotion from the other rooms, but none of you say anything. A teenage girl tries to come through the door, but pauses and then backs away. Then Mr. Vantas comes over and hugs you.

“Dave,” he says, “you've got time to figure out what you want. But remember you're always welcome here.”

He lets go and backs away, just as Karkat appears in the door smiling.

“You're not giving my husband too bad of a time now, are you?” He asks. “He's already had the shovel talk like three times.”

“Not at all,” Mr. Vantas says.

“Good.” Karkat pulls out a chair and sits down. “Ugh, I've been here for ten minutes and I'm already exhausted.”

“Yes,” his aunt says, “Being pregnant will do that.”

He laughs. “No, Nepeta will. I always forget how high energy she is. But anyway, how have you been? I know it hasn't been that long, but…”

You mostly sit back and enjoy the conversation, only ducking in of you're addressed or have a one liner to put in. You don't leave Karkat's side for the rest of the night. Even if you’re willing to believe you’re not just here as his accessory, it feels better to be with him.

Karkat’s father actually lets you stay a few days, so you can also go around and be tourists in your own home town. When you’re done he sends you home with a big bag of Tupperware full of leftovers. Some of the cousins have given you contact information for a few OBGYNs near your place that either specialize in or have good records with male omegas. Karkat's completely tuckered out at the end of it all. He falls asleep by the time you get on the freeway, head lolling on his shoulder with his hands in his lap like he's cradling his non-existent baby bump. And he is just so, so fucking adorable.

You realize with a start as you take the long winding drive back to the cabin that this is already beyond “I can get used to this” territory. You _are_ used to this. You'd been thinking of your house here and your baby as givens, like you weren't squatting in your brother’s vacation home to give a first trimester fetus some slightly better odds. You're slightly unsettled by how easy that transition was, how you fucking missed it until now. But it's a reality that's too sweet, too wonderful to turn away from.

So you don't. You live in it. The two of you do research on the doctors the day after you get back and call your favorite one. You go in for visit after visit with Karkat. You see the ultrasound. You get to hear its heartbeat. You learn it's a girl. You feel some of her first kicks.

And oh Karkat… Karkat gets handsomer by the day. You feel kind of bad, because you know he's so getting more and more uncomfortable, but pregnancy looks absolutely sublime on him. Where his belly was once just a little soft you first get a small bump that grows into a massive dome. About five months in his chest starts to swell, giving him the cutest little boobs for you to play with. His body begs for your attention. The fact that omegas slick when pregnant only makes that clearer. And then there's the behavioral changes. He sleeps more, giving you the chance to just admire his changing form in its most relaxed state. When he's awake he's lazy and needy, always ready for and excited about your affection. And as much as he keeps complaining that he feels fat and ugly, he doesn't seem to mind showing off for you. You suspect part of him might enjoy modeling for you as you snap picture after picture to document the changes his body goes through. You do work on that script a little bit together, but you keep getting distracted by each other.

“I don't know,” Karkat says, tapping his fingers on the swell of his belly as he looks over the document beginning to take form. “I feel like this is still getting a little too surreal. I know that's your thing, but I'm not sure it's working here.”

You sigh. “I think you're right. But how else are we going to tie up that car subplot? You think we should just cut it?”

“No, I like it.” He groans and runs his fingers through his hair, stretching backwards. His shirt edges up, revealing two inches of his swollen middle.

If your eyes weren't on him before, they sure as fuck now. God, he's so attractive like this, his body soft and warm and ready for your knot even as it changes itself to accommodate your growing child. Your mind goes right into the gutter whenever you think about it, and whenever you focus on his belly you can't help but think about it. He notices you staring and grins.

“You wanna take a break?” He asks.

“Depends what you wanna do.” You say, making it as flirty as possible.

“My back's getting sore from this chair.” He stands. “Think I'm gonna go lay down. You wanna come?”

You chuckle. “Oh, you know I do.”

He gives you a little playful shove and goes to the bedroom. It'd be hard to notice if you hadn't been looking for it eagerly, but he's got an adorable little waddle starting. He’s not even really that big yet, but male omegas tend to struggle more because of their relatively narrow hips. The poor guy’s gonna suffer for it later, but _fuck_ it's arousing right now.

He makes it to the bedroom and eases himself down slowly before flinging one arm over his head and looking at you through half-lidded eyes. With his uncombed hair and shirt riding up over the curve of his belly, he's beautifully disheveled. It looks like he's already been ravished and is eager for more. The fading bitemarks from your previous couplings only add to the image.

“Fuck, stay right there,” You say.

“Seriously?” He demands.

“Yeah. It'll just be a second!” You go for the dresser and grab your camera.

“God damnit…” he grumbles.

“Shhhh stop looking constipated and go back to wanting to fuck me!”

You line up the shot but he just rolls his eyes. “If it wasn't so much work I'd get up and walk out.”

“Come on, babe,” you let your voice drop low and put an edge of roughness into it. “You know why I'm doing this. You're so fucking sexy like this. I wanna document it. Wanna have picture of you and the baby for keeps. So when the pup's all grown up I can still pull these out and remember how fucking amazing you looked right now and how bad I wanna be inside you.” he's still trying to look mad but the colors rising in his cheeks. He's squeezing his thighs, trying to get some friction between his legs. It’s a good look. You snap a few pictures. “Oh, you like that? You like the idea of me keeping these? Developing them in private and then spreading them out in front of me so I can jerk it to you? Because if you're into that I will. You're prettier than any porn star.”

“You know that's not true,” he murmurs, but he's back to sex eyes. And that's perfect. You take a few more pictures.

“Oh yes it is,” you assure him. “You underestimate how much it does for me that you're mine. That you're my amazing, brilliant, loving omega. That you're loyal, that you want me, that even after all this time you still wanted me to bring you out here so we could make a baby together.”

“Heh, you're starting to sound more like you wanna marry me than you wanna fuck me.”

“I'd do it a second time if I could. But hey,” you set the camera back down and approach the bed, “since there's no way you'd fit back into that tux now, I'll settle for fucking you.”

He grins. “No you won't. That kind of speech… you're about to make love to me.”

You wet your lips. “Yeah. I think I am.”

You drop your own clothes on the way to the bed. By the time you get there, he's got his pajama pants and briefs off. All that's left is the large sweater he's been wearing. His partially dressed state somehow makes it even more erotic. But one night he posed for a full series like this: cock hard, ass dripping, belly peeking out from under the hem of his shirt. You even got a money shot that day, with your cum leaking from his stretched entrance. You’ve got that moment on film. You won't make him wait now.

Instead you run your hands up his stomach, helping him out of his shirt. His naked body may be less pornographic, but that's because it crosses the line back into art. He's still months away from giving birth, but he looks ready. Freed from the knit prison, his belly is flawlessly round and smooth, the only “imperfection” his recently inverted navel. The dark line bisecting it gives you a perfect route for your eyes to follow from his twitching cock to his shiny new breasts. His nipples have grown and gotten darker as he's started producing milk, making big old targets for your hands and mouth. You could look at him forever if you didn't want to touch him so badly.

You kneel on the bed beside him, trying to figure out what to do with him. He's sexy and he's gorgeous and he's looking at you like you mean the world to him. His belly ripples and he winces.

“Dammit, kid, not now!” He growls.

“Shhh...” you gently rub his lower stomach. The baby’s still kicking. “I know sweetie, feels weird, don't it? Daddy's all excited, isn't he?” You glance up at Karkat's face. He looks at you with his mouth open just a little. “Hey, how do you think this feels for her?”

“Umm…”

“I bet it's good. Maybe not too different from you. You're squirming around too.”

He growls. “Can we not talk about our fetus possibly getting sexually aroused?!”

You wince and pull back. “Shit! I didn't mean it like that!”

“That is literally what you said!”

“Look, I meant like a second-hand high kinda thing…”

“Ugh.”

“Do you wanna not have sex for the next three months?” you point out. “Because she's not going anywhere until then.”

“I… I never said that.”

“Heh, I know.”

Situation diffused, You kiss him soft and sweet, stroke his side. He sighs happily and melts into his touch.

“There's a good boy…”

“You're absolutely ridiculous. Can't believe I’m letting you-”

“Shhhh…” you gently kiss down his neck. Unsurprisingly, he relents.

“Please, Dave, fucking touch me.”

“I already am,” you tease.

“Fucking…!”

You smirk. “Nah, I get it. You wanna turn and scoot to the edge of the bed?”

He grabs a couple pillows and scrambles to rotate. You help him get in position so that he's got one pillow under his ass near the edge of the bed. The other pillow winds up under his head. His hair is getting a little long and it creates a little halo.  There's a delicate little blush across his cheeks and he looks up at you with love and anticipation and he is so, so beautiful. You tell him so and his blush intensifies.

“Dave, I- fuck, why have you been so fucking sweet lately?”

“I mean,” you slide off the bed. “It's not like you’re giving me everything an Alpha could ever want, right?” You slide your fingers into him. Fuck, he's so wet and pliant and between that and the way his breath hitches you can tell how much he wants you. “You're sexy and gorgeous and it feels amazing to be inside of you. You made a dusty abandoned house in the middle of fuck nowhere into the perfect den. You're my best friend in the world and I'm finally getting the chance to work with you. And, of course,” you slide your free hand over the broad expanse of his belly. “You were willing to sacrifice so much to make us a baby. And then you did it. You know you've got a little person inside of you, right? A real human person. And she's gonna be a mix of the two of us, and you're already taking good care of her and keeping her safe. Fuck, Karkat, you're perfect and amazing and I fucking love you.”

At the start he was grinning wide, basking in your praise, but as your speech went on it faded. His eyes got wide and you see the beginnings of tears.

You pull back. “But shit I said something wrong. What did I fuck up?”

“No, nothing.” He lifts his hand to wipe his face. “It's just a lot. Dumb emotions and hormones. I wanna kiss you.”

Your lip twitches upward. “Well, coulda said so.”

 It's a bit of a stretch to get over him, but you get the feeling that's what he wants. You put your lips back on his, trying to kiss him like you're not eagerly waiting for the okay to slide inside of him. Especially now. Your dick is pressed up against his belly. Oh fuck he's just so _big._ Your alpha instincts are telling you he needs love and protection and marking. That you should bite him and rub him so he's full of your scent and the whole world will know he's protected and cared for and that he and the child inside of him are all yours.

He gently pushes on your shoulder. “I, uh,” he says as you pull away. “I feel like you deserve to have me sing your praises too but…” he arches his back, pushing his hips against you. “I really want your knot.”

“Good. Cause I wanna give it to you.”

You’re not entirely sure how long it’s been since you were last inside of him. It must have either been yesterday or the day before. You sex life has been kicked into such a high gear it's a wonder your dick hasn't fallen off. But fuck, as you start pushing inside of him the two of you gasp like it’s the first air you’ve had in months.

Yet something still forces you to check up on him. “Good?”

“Yes…” he hisses.

“Good.”

You keep pushing slow and steady. You know that in this state he could take you in a split second, but you want to savor this, want to take your time. And the view is fucking divine. Breasts you never had to deal with before beg for attention. Every day there seems to be another inch of his growing belly to explore and you keep “having” to remap it with your lips and fingertips. His cock hasn’t changed, still straining and eager for your touch, but new background makes things different. Omegas usually have slightly smaller dicks to start with, and you’d never say it to his face, but the way it almost presses up against the sheer mass of his stomach makes it look almost cute. Especially since its only biological role these days is to make him feel a little extra nice; he’s been shooting blanks since his heat started. And as much as you love teasing him, both of you know that’s not enough to satisfy him these days. Something about the pregnancy seems to be making it so that he’s not satisfied unless he’s been stimulated from the inside. It’s not the same knot-demanding hunger of the heats - After all, you can sate him with fingers during the times you’d rather have his dick down your throat - but your alpha brain really seems to like how he looks stretched around your cock. Maybe it’s your ego talking, but it always looks like it’s _almost_ too much for him even though he craves you and you know it. Even the thought of the way he stretches around you, desperate and begging for you, turns you on.

Yeah, okay, definitely ego.

But Karkat doesn’t seem to mind, especially once you start moving. He moans and sighs and murmurs words of encouragement.

“There we go,” you breathe, bending over to cup his cheek. “Good boy.”

He nuzzles your hand and then says. “I'm not made of glass, though. You can go harder.”

“Alright.” You pull back and wrap his legs around your hips. “Hold on.”

“ _Fuck_ yes!” He groans emphatically.

As you start to move he grips the sheets tightly. You find yourself grabbing his thighs for leverage. God, you wish you had big old bedposts like the ones at home so you could really go to town.

Thankfully, this seems to be enough for him. His chest heaves, accentuating his tits. He moans and keens and cries out for you. His stomach expands and contracts with each breath. You don’t know how there’s space for that, or how the baby is gonna be able to grow for three more months.

Fuck, you picture him in that same sweater at nine months, with it bunched up at the top of an even larger belly, pants tugged even lower. He’s replaced most of his daily wear with paternity stuff, but you pray he’ll hold on to this one. If nothing else, at least for you.

He wiggles again, but this time you can sense his frustration. He reaches around his belly to touch himself, but you bat his hand away.

“No,” you say.

He whines but obeys, withdrawing his hand. Instead he arches up off of the bed and bares his neck for you. “I'm yours,” the gesture says. “I’m your omega and I want you so bad.” and then with his mouth he says. “please, Dave, I'll flip onto my hands and knees and present for you and fucking _beg._ I'm horny as fuck. Let me come. I- shit! You know I can’t keep going like this!”

“I do.” You angle your hips, thrust extra hard, and he screams. “But I also know that as long as you're slicking you can come just from having me inside you.”

 His face turns even redder and he breaks eye contact. “Goddamn what the hell happened to making love to me?”

“Hey, I'm doing this so we can savor it.” You slow down. “Is that not working for you? If you want I could flip you over, force your head into the pillows and fuck you until you're sore, but I wanted to look at you. Wanted you to be able to relax and enjoy it. Do you wanna stop? Try something else?”

“No,” he admits. “I like seeing you too.” And if that doesn't make you feel big, make you feel warm and proud. “But, Dave,” he reaches out. His hands settle over yours. “I want to _feel_ you.”

You swallow. “I can do that.”

You lean over as much as you can. You’re a little taller than him, but from the angle you can only reach his shoulder. But you can still nuzzle his breasts, press down on his stomach with your own. The baby hasn’t settled down, and you can feel her kicking. You inhale deeply. He’s still marked, your claim still strong in his scent, proclaiming that he’s not just a pregnant omega, but _your_ pregnant omega. He’s your mate, your lover and six months pregnant with your baby. Fuck, just thinking that makes you feel proud and powerful and so, so in love. You close your eyes and just enjoy being pressed up against him. He seems to like it too. He tangles his fingers in your hair and strokes your back as you make love. You can’t get the same leverage but you don’t care. He’s still hot and wet and snug around you and now you can feel his exciting, new body instead of just looking at it. It’s amazing.

For a bit it’s quiet. Just the slick sound of your thrusts and two different patters of hard breathing. Then he asks you to take his dick again and you relent. His cock is familiar, warm and solid and just the right size for your fist. He gasps, like he's startled you're finally giving him what he wants.

“Come on, babe,” you murmur, “You know I always take care of you.”

He tries to respond, but he's beyond words. It just spills out as a jumble of moaned syllables. He’s writhing desperately and so is the kid. You pull back try to soothe them both by giving his belly a few gentle pets, but you can't keep up that coordination for long. Your eyes are locked on him. His belly ripples and you swear you see the outline of a little foot, but when you go to touch it, it disappears. God, why does that make your knot start to swell? You might feel a little dirty, but the extra pressure drives Karkat over the edge, and he manages to make a mess of your hand as you sloppily work him through it. He throws his head back and breathes deeply.

You pause. Sometimes it's too much for him to knot him if he comes first. But before you can ask, Karkat says “Keep going.”

“You got it,” you say.

You'd like to get him on his hands and knees so you can spoon when you're done, but you don't know if he's got that left in him. You just lean over, brace yourself on the mattress and let go, giving in and letting yourself focus on your own pleasure for once. But the best angle for you to thrust into him puts your top half in an awkward position, face hovering over the space between his belly and his tits, staring down at one of the few bits of him that seems unaffected. But he brings his hands down to play with your hair. He strokes your head and your neck. Every now and then, he scrapes or pinches at your scent glands with his nails. It may not be a real mating mark, but it still sends those jolts of electricity to your belly. The entire time he praises you. It's a bit of a confused jumble but there's parts about how he loves you, how handsome you are, your dick, your hands, your hair, your knot, your cum, fucking everything. It gets clearer as he goes on, but you listen less and less.

Embarrassingly, though, you come right as you catch him saying, “Feels so good to carry your pup.”

Your knot swells to almost full size, and you let him hold you. It still feels weird to knot but not keep pumping him full of jizz but you don't mind. The high is still worth it. Lighting races through your body, your head feels light and airy.

As you come down, though, you start to process how much of your arousal was centered around Karkat's current state. Maybe you should feel bad. You’re acting real fucking stereotypical. But you're only human. And he is fucking beautiful. You stroke his cheek and he presses your hand closer. His eyes are soft and overflowing with love.

“God, I love you,” you say.

“I love you too,” he replies. “Hey, can you come down here? I want to cuddle you.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” You steel your nerves and pull out.

The pressure is enough to make you wince, but it lets you scramble over to lie beside him. He turns away so you can spoon him. You press up against him. He's so warm and it's hard to say but you think his skin’s gotten a bit softer. You stroke his belly and he sighs happily.

“Is the kid behaving now?” You ask.

“Yeah. I think she's enjoying the afterglow,” he murmurs.

You hum at him happily and bury your nose in the crook of his shoulder. Fuck, he smells so good. There's his normal scent mixed with the warm, sweet smell of pregnant omega as well as your own. There's something too deep and primal to fight that makes you feel proud and content. God, you love this a lot more than you ever thought you would. Your nice little house, a pregnant mate, the beginnings of a proper little stereotypical family. Fuck it, you've basically got half a kid now. Let's just get two more and a dog!

…Fuck, that still sounds really good. You can picture it, this baby playing with a puppy as you as Karkat watches with his hand on his swollen abdomen.

“You okay?” Karkat asks, peering over his shoulder. “You look constipated.”

“I'm fine. Just… feelings.”

He lets out a barking laugh. “What, do you love me or something?”

“...Or something. Your damn hormones are making me get all fuzzy and shit.”

“What, are you blaming me for forgetting to shave?” He rubs your cheek, making the short stiff hairs wiggle uncomfortably. You wince.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” He pauses for a moment and then says, “Is fuzzy bad?”

You think about it. You think until you start to overthink. Then you answer from that little place inside you Karkat calls your heart.

“No. No it's not.”

* * *

 

Being pregnant, you decide, is much more fun at the beginning than the end. At the beginning it's all excitement - wonder at the fact that you've got a little proto-person inside of you, the absolute worship from Dave, an elevated sex drive and a physique that let you still feel sexy. You don't regret your choices for a moment, but you're ready to be done now. You feel unattractive, your back and feet and tits ache, the kid acts up at the worst times, and it feels like you have to pee every few minutes.

Dave really does help, though. He got you a new TV for the bedroom so you can lounge in a luxurious pile of pillows with your feet up and still watch Netflix. Of course, you don't always spend the most time paying attention to that. He’ll come and lie on his side next to you, unabashedly staring with love and devotion. He touches you gentle and sweet, and sometimes he even manages to make you feel attractive again. He at least doesn't have any trouble getting it up and whenever you cuddle up together he kisses you and touches you and uses words like “beautiful,” and “cute,” and sometimes even “hot” or “sexy.” And even if you don't feel it most of the time, when he's next to you you’re able to pretend you are for at least a few moments.

Of course it's not always sexual. As often as not you just lie there together, enjoying each other's company, the way you would back in LA on the rare nights neither of you were stressed out with work. You wonder how many tender moments like this you'll be able to have after the baby is born. She certainly seems to like Dave's voice. When he speaks low and sweet she tends to calm down, especially when he places a hand on the swell of your belly. It's almost funny - you've gotten to the point where when she's really fussy at bedtime, Dave will kneel down and talk to her and it fucking _works._

You don't think that she can understand a word of it, but it's still so sweet. You don't know what it is about the baby that makes him so unusually honest about his feelings. He talks about how he loves her and can't wait to hold her and see how she grows up. And it makes you look forward to parenting with him even more than you had before.

Of course, you can't have that the easy way either. You wish you could give birth at home, in the nest you worked so hard to build, surrounded by the scent of safety and comfort with your mate gently soothing you. But you don't have the hips for that. You grew up seeing your father’s scars and hearing stories about your birth and other family members’ experiences to the point where you knew before they spelled it out for you in health class- male omegas almost always get C-sections. You know it's safer for you and your daughter, and it gives you a pretty sure date to count down to. But your stupid lizard-brain makes your stomach churn thinking about being cut open, and having your baby's first view of the world be a bright, scentless operating room. And, less visceral but more annoying, they're making you take a stupid birthing and parenting class with other people. You don't get why they couldn't just send you a PDF and a link to some youtube videos, instead of making you drag your fat, uncomfortable ass to the hospital six weeks before your due date.

You walk around the bright, maze-like halls of the hospital. You've gotten lost about ten times, but you're pretty sure you're at least in the right wing now. It's a good thing you made Dave leave early.

The two of you round what you hope is the last corner, and then you see a familiar figure sitting on one of the uncomfortable benches topped with plasticy cushions. His head is bowed, looking down at a cell phone. You haven't seen him in years, but you recognize him nonetheless. And your mate does too.

“Holy shit,” Dave says, “John Egbert is that you?!”

He looks up in confusion and then his eyes fall on you. “Dave? Karkat? What the heck are you two doing here?”

“Well, I mean,” you gesture to yourself.

His eyes go wide “Oh! Holy shit, congrats! But I mean, aren't you two off being bigshots in Hollywood?”

“Eh, we decided to take a break to go start a family.” Dave says. Technically it's true, you suppose. “What about you? I thought you went back to Washington.”

“Well I did for a while, but…”

The swinging door beside him opens and out walks Terezi Pyrope. And she's the size of a barge. Female alphas don't usually get pregnant, but the obnoxious neon tshirt she's wearing with a “baby on board” sign dispels any question about her super localized weight gain.

“Who are you talking to, dorklord?” She asks.

“Dave and Karkat are here!” John exclaims, getting to his feet.

“Wait seriously?!” She demands.

“Yep, how’ve you been?” Dave says.

She grins. “Well I'm basically dying. Egberts been having a pretty good year, though.” She elbows him playfully. He laughs and puts his arm around her fondly.

“Wait you two are back together?” you demand. “Since when?!”

They both laugh.

“Since like four years ago!” Terezi says.

“Yeah, we both just had some growing up to do,” John explains. “It just took a couple years to mellow out. I'm sure you remember what it's like to be a twenty year-old alpha.”

Dave winces, probably remembering any of the stupid shit he did in college. Maybe all of the posturing in front of every alpha on campus when you were anywhere nearby, or possibly all the fights he would have with John for no reason other than it was prerut. “Yeah, guess I do.”

“So, are you guys here for the class too?” you ask.

“Yep!” John says.

Terezi gasps dramatically. “ _And_ Karkat's preggers? I'd say I wanna feel, but I know every old woman in the grocery store already assumes your uterus is public property.”

You cross your arms. “You can't convince me you let them get away with that.”

“Of course not.” She grins. “They learn pretty quick when I get 'startled’ and smack 'em with my cane.”

God you've missed her.

“We should get going though,” John says.

“Yeah, let's do this before my water breaks.” Terezi says.

“Prolly a good idea,” Dave says. “Uh, by the way, where is it?”

“Oh, right over here,” John takes Terezi’s arm and starts leading you down the hall. “You wanna go get dinner or something after, though? I'd love to catch up with you!”

Dave looks over to you. You know he's always got an excuse ready when you need to duck out of situations, but he's waiting to see if you'd like to. Probably because you were whining about leaving the house the whole way here. But you… you've missed these two.

“Yeah,” you say, “Sounds good. Do you have an idea where or-?”

“Oh sure. Tez’s practice is nearby and there's a nice little mom and pop place we go for lunch. They've got great burgers! And they'll put all kinds of weird stuff on it if that's what you're into.”

You're not entirely sure what he means by “weird stuff” but you'll have to find out. Some of it might appeal to the stranger parts of your new appetite. But even if they don't you could probably really mess up a burger.

The room John leads you to is not as bad as you'd imagined it would be. You were expecting pastels and baby stuff all over, far too cutesy for even your nesting brain. Instead, the colors are nice and mellow, creams and warm brown and greens. There are a few rows of chairs, most of them filled with other couples. The last row is still fairly open, so you're all able to group together. Dave and John flank you and Terezi. You're not even sure they're aware they're doing it, or if it's just instinct to protect a pregnant mate. You wish you could exchange a look with Terezi, at least to see if she even noticed, but obviously you can't.

Still, though, with your mate on one side and a friend on the other, you sit a bit more comfortably through the long useless affair. The kid manages to sleep or otherwise just chill out most of it, only trying to burst out of your stomach Alien-style while they were showing the actual video of the procedure. Because of course that’s when she does it. Because she's your and Dave's daughter so of course she’s a little shit. At least her presence makes you feel weirdly better about the whole “being cut open while awake” thing. Because parts of this suck sure, but you wouldn't trade your child for the world.

* * *

 

John wasn’t kidding about the restaurant being close. It’s literally a block and a half away from the hospital. You get a table, get settled, and order. You start with the basics, but given the situation it doesn’t take long for the conversation to turn to the kids.

“So you still don't have a name, huh?” Terezi asks.

“No,” Karkat says. “I guess we know too many people. We know someone with every decent name in the world, it feels like.”

“I mean, you could always name it after someone you do know,” John points out. “Like, we settled on James about two minutes after we saw a penis on the ultrasound.”

“Yeah, but I had no strong female figures in my childhood, and Karkat was teased one too many times in high school to let us use one of his family names,” you say.

“Nah, middle school mostly.”

“Close enough.”

He shrugs, “But I'm sure we'll figure it out eventually. Even if we're debating it all the way to the operating room.” John lets out a little laugh and then Karkat continues. “Anyway, where the hell is the bathroom in this place?”

“Right behind you,” Terezi says.

He looks over his shoulder. You do too, and sure enough there's a little men’s sign blending right into the decor. “Well fuck,” he says.

“That's a good point though.” Terezi gets to her feet. It's a bit of a struggle for her to stand, but she makes it. You wonder if Karkat will have that much trouble in a month. “We've probably still got a few minutes until the food comes. I'm gonna go take a piss.”

“Do you want some help?” Karkat offers.

“Nah,” she unfolds her cane. “They’re generally pretty good at keeping chairs by the tables so I find those first. But you can come too if you gotta go.”

Karkat goes a little red but does follow her back.

Once they're far enough away they won't hear, John leans across the table and lowers his voice.

“You still smell taken,” he says.

“Yeah? So?” You feel yourself start to blush.

“I’ve gotta know - How has he been biting you with the kid in the way?”

“Oh, uh, he doesn’t. He uses his nails. You can like pinch at your neck and it’ll still trigger the scent exchange. Then he can just like rub it and that’s good enough.”

“That’s fucking brilliant.” He says. “I don’t think we’ll have another chance before the kid comes at this point, but maybe…”

“Yeah. Or else you can have her bite you while you jerk off. It doesn’t stick quite as well, but it’s something.”

“Makes sense.”

“But if we’re taking sex lives…” you say.

“Yeah?”

“What's it like for your mate to rut with you?”

He grins and raises his eyebrows suggestively. “Oh, and here I thought you weren't interested in Alphas.”

“I'm not. I'm just curious. Now spill!”

“Dude, it's fucking awesome. Makes the whole fighting for dominance thing even more intense. So when you win, _holy shit,_ man.”

“And if you don't?”

He blushes a little bit. “Well I mean… you still let Karkat top you?”

Fuck, you forgot he caught you experimenting in college, didn't he. And since he already knows, you admit to it. “...Yeah.”

“Well it's like that, but better. And since it's in rut, it's like even more of a good-dirty kind of thing.”

“So did you just have a winning streak this year, or…?”

“No.” The smile changes from a sexual one to something more tender. “Actually, that's how we figured it out in the first place. Our instincts knew before we did. The prerut just kind of… didn't happen. She was less into trying to top, I found myself a lot more focused on making sure she was comfortable, and then we were both getting into more of the snuggly affectionate stuff than we'd ever been. So that was weird, and then the first day of the season nothing happened. And then the second nothing happened and we knew something was up. And, I mean, we were trying but not _trying,_ you know? So we kind of had a feeling. Then she took the test and you can probably figure out what happened from there.”

“Nice,” you say. “But shit, she's gotta be due any day now.”

“Yeah. She's scheduled for next Tuesday.”

“ _Shit.”_

“Yeah,” he says. “Honestly this class was a little too close for comfort, but they have a lot more this time of year.”

“Makes sense. So is your dad gonna come down or…?”

His face falls and he turns back to his beer. “Right, umm… He actually... passed away.”

You balk at him. “What? When?!”

“About a year and a half ago.” He smiles sadly. “Lung cancer. Honestly, we probably should have seen it coming. I can barely remember a time he didn't have a pipe in his mouth. But I guess we didn't think it would be so soon. It was stage three by the time they found it.”

Fuck, you're awful with this kind of stuff. Don't fuck it up, don't fuck it up. “I'm sorry,” you say.

John breaks eye contact with you. “Sure. You are now.”

“What?”

He sighs. “I tried so hard to get in contact with you guys. _We_ tried so hard. Dad had always wanted to see me get married, so we threw a wedding together as quick as we could. We wanted you two there, but you fell off the face of the Earth. No Facebook, no Twitter. We tried multiple mailing addresses and phone numbers but we could never get to you and you never responded. We tried everything short of going in person because we had to be there for Dad. I tried every email address you used to use, went back on the ancient Minecraft server, I even found a file for that old chat program we used. But fucking _nothing.”_

God, you already fucked it up. You fucked it up over a year ago.

“Shit.” You say. “I'm sorry. God I… we missed a lot didn't we?”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

“Get whatever you want.”

“Huh?”

“If it wasn't obvious before, I'll pay for you guys. Whatever you want.”

“My wife's a lawyer. I don't need your money.”

“I know. And I know it won't make anything better either. But I've got to do something.”

He looks at you for a moment and then shrugs. “I mean if you want.”  

“John… I… Karkat and I are here now so if you wanna hang out later we can make plans.”

He laughs humorlessly, “Sure, with all the free time new dads have.”

“Or we can like… set up a playdate in a couple months?”

“Are you sticking around?” he looks hopeful.

“We're… considering it.”

And then that hope is visibly shattered into a million pieces, “Oh.”

“But um, we’re at clear until at least October for sure. But we… were really seriously thinking about it. At least when the kid’s little.” It doesn't seem to make much of a difference. “You know what? Gimmie your phone.”

“What? Why?”

 “I’ll text myself and Karkat. You of all people should have our numbers. The real personal ones. Not the ones that go to our agents.”

“Seriously? Well, here!” He fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you.

You have to get your own phone out just to double check the numbers before sending the text. You wait until the notification pops up on your phone and then hand his back. “There,” you say, adding him as a contact. “And you can call or text any time. Just like before.”

He smiles that same sweet way he always used to. “Thanks. I will. And, um, I’m in a group that does stand up and improv stuff on Thursdays at 7. There's a little theater on Franklin and 4th.” He hands you a card. “So no pressure, but if you're interested we could go get drinks after. Karkat too, of course. I know he can't drink right now but like maybe he'll still have fun?”

“Well, won't be the first time he's been our designated driver.”

He smiles in a way that always managed to make you feel big.

Around then, Karkat and Terezi come back.

“Anything happen while we were gone?” Karkat asks. He eases himself back down into the chair.

“Um…” John says.

“John’s still doing improv,” you cut in. “We were talking about going to see his show later.”

“He's suckering you into that?” Terezi asks, snickering.

“Don't listen to her,” John says, elbowing her gently. “It’s lots of fun! She actually likes them most of the time. She just wants to go to bed at like 8 every night.”

“Lies and slander.”

The rest of the meal goes well. Things stay light, thanks to Terezi’s snide jokes, John's trademark cheer, and your own flat humor.

John and Terezi both try to pay but you refuse to let them. You promise to meet up on Thursday, and after a bit of griping Terezi agrees to come out too.

When you finally get back to the car Karkat sinks heavily into the passenger seat with a sigh.

“You okay?” You ask.

“Just tired.”

“For real or you just don't want to talk about it?”

He smiles. “For real. The kid takes it out of me.”

God, why is he so lovely like this, just leaning slightly back with his eyes shut, rubbing his swollen stomach through a thin black sweatshirt. The evening sun filters through his fine hair and gives his skin a warm, orangey glow.

You reach out to take his hand. “Karkat?”

“Yeah?”

“I wanna stay here.”

He sits upright. “Seriously? In the parking lot?”

“No. I mean, in Texas.”

“Oh!” He shifts a little. “For how long?”

“I don't know, but we're talking years. Like maybe we'll take some breaks and do a movie or two, but I… I feel like we've missed a lot. And like what have we even been getting out of it? A lot of stress and money we don't need and could never even use up.”

“I mean… I do kind of like my job, but…” He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, most of the writing I do I could do remotely. And the stuff I couldn't I could always fly out and do a bit at a time. Let's… give me a chance to think about it, okay? I mean, we've got until October to decide, right?”

You feel your heart start to sink. “Right…”

“I mean, don't get me wrong! it would be nice to be with more of our friends and closer to home. I just- let's not make major life decisions in a parking lot without thinking them through first.”

“Oh, right.”

He laughs, “Of course, now that I think about it, you asked me to marry you while we were drunk out of our minds outside a McDonald's and that's working out pretty good.”

“Does that mean a yes?”

He leans his head on the window. “It means if you nervously ask again tomorrow and I agree again it's probably a good idea. But for now, you wanna take me home, Dave?”

“Whatever you want babe.”

“Don't say that. I'll get ideas.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“Uhh… I want platinum dolphin.”

“Pfft! Karkat?”

“Yeah?”

“Take a nap.”

You turn the key, put the car in gear, and head for home, bantering with your mate the whole damn way.


End file.
